


Chapter Twenty-Two: Forever Gone

by CavalierConvoy



Series: MTMTE Series One: Shoot Straight with a Crooked Gun [23]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers Generation One, Transformers Generation Two, Transformers: Beast Machines, Transformers: Beast Wars
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Being Lost, Doomed Timelines, Gen, Love Confessions, Other, Quantum Mechanics, Rebuilding, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-07
Updated: 2015-03-07
Packaged: 2018-03-16 16:18:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3494891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CavalierConvoy/pseuds/CavalierConvoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the <i>Wreckers' Spoils</i>, fueled by liquid courage, Octane discusses matters with Sandstorm that have little to do with the three Maximals or the mission at hand.</p><p>Two weeks ago, Pantera comes to after their shuttle crash lands on an unknown planet, en route from Cybertron from Earth and the Beast Wars...or did they?</p><p>And in between, Hellfire comes to the unsettling conclusion that he, Pantera, and Depth Charge are stuck in the current timeline of events.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chapter Twenty-Two: Forever Gone

In this place you cannot reach me.  
To save my mind, my flesh forever gone.  
I feel the way so deep inside me.  
So much to pay, but now I'm gone.  
—["Forever Gone"](http://youtu.be/y29GL6Q8NX0) by mind.in.a.box, from _Lost Alone_

 _Wreckers' Spoils_  
Engine Room  
Now

Sandstorm studied the twisted console of the engine room. It was not a pretty sight. Although the ship had been returned to its original state, the effects of the Matrix influence and Starscream's will was still evident the further one descended to the engine room. 

The orange and black Autobot tried to make sense of the control panel, but gave up as following the paths of the contorted metal made his head pound. It was all Hellfire's show at this point. 

In truth, he just needed some time to think for himself.

"Can you believe that?" Octane demanded, coming up behind the smaller triple-changer. "I mean, knowing that Arty and Brat're still alive — we suspected it, yeah, but knowing...! Man, this — "

"Octane, please," Sandstorm stressed, his voice drained. "Enough. I didn't want to do this again. Not like this. Not on board this damned ship."

Cocking his head to one side, Octane regarded his smaller comrade, then took a seat next to him. "What else can we do? Are you really wanting to just sit tight in a safe place and wait until it all blows over? What if it doesn't? What if it keeps going?"

"Interesting that you'd take the side of action," Sandstorm smirked.

"And you're the one wanting to sit on your hands." 

"I..." Sandstorm slumped forward, clasping his hands together. "After what happened to Springer...I knew we were in a dangerous line of work, but — I just want it to be over, and we can finally have a home."

"You're starting to sound like Arty. That whole looking for stability thing." Octane mirrored his comrade's posture. "You know what's funny? You know where she found her stability? She told me before she left. It wasn't somewhere where she found it...it was someone."

"Have you been hitting the stashes? You're not usually this philosophical after only a couple of lagers."

"Yes, but that's beside the point." The larger triple-changer grabbed either side of Sandstorm's helm and met his stare. "She's right, you know. I don't care where I am, or what jail cell I'm rotting in, or whatever heist I'm running from, as long as you're with me, I don't care." 

Sandstorm had a retort on the tip of his tongue, but it evaporated upon Octane's confession. Granted, the rogue Decepticon had been hitting the merchandise, but that was situation normal. The only difference was that it was just the two of them now. Even though upon first meeting, Sandstorm was ready to rip Octane's head off because of the insignia on his chest, over the decacycles that followed their chance crossing of paths, between their mutual friends in the giant Skyfire, and Artemis, hard-drinking and haunted by the ghosts of her past. 

When their team disbanded, Sky -- now going by Jetfire after the conflict -- had left on amicable terms, pursuing his love of science and exploration. Cavalier would follow Rodimus — it had been the reason she had joined their mission in the first place — and Art...well, no one was certain what Art had planned, other than hole up in Macadam's and try to drink away the bad memories. Word of Springer's medically-induced coma had rattled her — rattled all of them, but her especially. 

The two triple changers faced a choice: split up or stick together. The former, after three stels of teaming up, had become a alien concept screaming wrongness. They had discussed it, but what were they going to do? Sandstorm may have had luck finding some sort of employment, but Octane refused to give up the violet: better a place to stand than kowtowing to the Autobots or joining the NAILs. Sandstorm never insisted he did. They had an efficient partnership: Sandstorm was the diplomat with no scruples to resort to fisticuffs once negotiations failed; Octane, the hustler with the wiles, could wear an opponent down with charm or obnoxiousness. Why split up that?

Because now Sandstorm was caught in the ruby-opticked gaze of his comrade, sorting out the exact meaning of the confession.

"Dammit, Oc," he hissed, but did not pull away. "Can we talk about this when you've got a clear head? We're both kinda keyed up right now. I — " _Damn, how to word it!_ " — I do want to talk about this...just now isn't the right time. Not here. Not when we're taxiing strange Minibots to parts unknown." For emphasis — for comfort — Sandstorm placed a hand on Octane's, but did not remove it from his helm. Nor did Octane pull away. But after a few clicks, Octane broke contact, bowing his head.

"That actually sounded better in my head anyway," he chuckled, an attempt at his usual self. He sat back, leaning forward with elbows on knees. "Frag, Screamer really made a mess of this, didn't he?"

Segue, which was better than the alternative of not talking. "From what I gather, he makes a mess out of everything he touches. C'mon — let's go topside and find out where the sqawkbox is taking us."

"You trust them, Sandy?"

"Pantera trusts you. She never flinched when she approached us. She knew who you were. Who we are. And about this ship. Then again, the kid mentioned that he was a quantum physicist, and if what he said about Starscream and the Matrix is true, then if anyone could unravel those facts...it's just too much for me to fathom right now." Standing, Sandstorm held out his hand. "Let's say you and I get some answers from them, eh?"

Octane smirked, grasping his friend's arm and pulling himself up. "Can't complain if the babe's got a good judge of character."  
Octane was forcing himself. Sandstorm did not let go just yet. "I mean it," he hissed. "We will talk about this when we're both thinking straight. I want to talk about this. Just now's not the best time. Okay?"

"It's cool, Sandy. Swear to Primus. It's cool."

Although there was hurt in his tone, Octane was reluctant to release Sandstorm's arm.

That was a good sign.

*

Unknown Planet  
Two Decacycles Ago

Pounding. A hammer to an anvil, each strike exacerbating her migraine. Pantera groaned, pressing a hand to her brow. She met resistance of a metallic helm. Optics flicked online, and she was staring not at black technorganic fur, but the black, red, and blue patchwork metal of her former Transmetal Two shell.

"The hell?" she whispered, sitting upright to get a feel of her surroundings. The pounding was to her left, sparks flying in her peripheral. She was in a cavern, and she was aware of water lapping a shore of some underground lake. Around her were wreckages of space crafts. She was on a recharge slab, rigged up to a makeshift generator.

"Huh," she mused, swinging her legs over the side of the slab. Vertigo hit her, and she bowed her head to ebb the dizziness. She attempted to recall what had transpired before she lost consciousness — but the damned headaches!

The pounding ceased, but the migraine continued, blinding her. Gritting her teeth against a growl, she pressed her palms to her optics. What happened?

A clink against the slab's surface, just within reach, and a gentle pat on her shoulder brought her around. Onlining one optic, she focused in on the cup of energon on her left. When she picked it up, she felt warmth radiate from the battered metal.

"Thank you," she whispered, taking a deep pull. Standard ration, otherwise bland, but someone took the time to heat it up to a more palpable texture. "Mind telling me the name of that lorry that ran me over?"

"Thinking we crashed en route to Cybertron. Trying to pinpoint our exact location. Haven't heard from Primal. Was hoping you might have more info on what happened."

The voice was an energon blade to the spark. She fumbled the cup, grasping it tighter than necessary. 

"You all right, 'Tera?" Depth Charge demanded. "Other than the obvious — you got hit pretty hard."

She was addled. "What's the last thing you remember?" she grumbled into her hand.

"Hmph." He took a seat next to her; she froze, staring into the depths of the drink. "Last thing? Fighting X. Plunging the energon shard into his spark. Figured I got CR'ed for the trip back." 

She nodded, but not in agreement. You didn't survive, Blue.

"Working on getting off this rock," Depth Charge continued. "Found a starhopper with minimal damage to the engines. Been trying to get it operational."

"Anyone else here?" she questioned.

Depth Charge growled, bowing his head. "One. Not a friendly."

That tone. That was beneath contempt, reserved for only one. And Depth Charge had said X was dead. "Not a Predacon, I take it."

"No, 'Tera. He's not."

"Still in the stasis pod?"

Depth Charge did not respond at first, but then shook his head. "Got him bound right now. Still unconscious. May have gotten a little rough."

She groaned, rubbing her optics. "I'm trying to get my thoughts collected. I'm — jumbled."

"It was a rough landing, I'm figuring."

An irrational thought darted through her mind. What if what happened this past stel and change was an elaborate glitch? She rose to her feet and took a few tentative steps. 

"Sorry, 'Tera," he followed suit, taking her shoulder. "Wish I could be more help."

She took his hand. "It's all right. I'm — physically okay. Head's just foggy." _What is going on?_

The starhopper had seen better sols, but engine repairs progressed at an acceptable clip. Under the nose of the ship, trussed up with energy binds, was the red and gold form of another TM2, his wings offline. She approached him crossing her arms over her chest, tail whipping.

"Starscream," she growled.

The bound 'bot hissed, bringing his gaze up to her face — but avoiding optic contact, glints of blue behind the visor. He tried to speak, but only static escaped his voice box. 

And then he slumped forward, shoulders shaking. 

"Damaged his vox before I threw him in stasis," Depth Charge admitted.

"I'm..." Tera pinched the bridge of her nose. "I'm not certain Starscream's in control anymore." Before the larger Maximal could protest, she held up a hand. "Yes or no: are you Skyfire?"

Shoulders still trembling, the hijacked Maximal shook his head. He squawked something, cried out in frustration and anguish, and dropped his head to his chest.

"Does your trans-communicator still function? Try using that," Pantera suggested.

<<I'm sorry,>> he transmitted. <<I'm sorry and I couldn't stop him and I don't know who I am anymore and I'm so so sorry and I — >>

"Skyfire, calm down." Pantera dropped her arms to her sides. She couldn't ascertain if, like her, he had been thrust back into their mutated shells, or if he was running off the same time line as Depth Charge — if it was a temporal anomaly causing this. "We've crash landed en route to Cybertron. Depth Charge is working on getting the engines up and running. The binds are a precaution; we didn't know who's in control."

He squawked. <<En route...? Weren't we...? Depth Charge...?>> He darted his optics from Pantera to former Colony Omikron warden and back again, still avoiding optic contact. <<'Tera, I — what's going on?>>

He was from her time line, caught in the quantum blast. "I don't know yet, Sky; right now we just need to leave here."

"Don't think it's a good idea to trust him," Depth Charge reminded.

<<You and me both, sir,>> Skyfire slumped. <<But if the ship has a transwarp drive, you're going to need help to repair it.>>  
Depth Charge was silent, red optics glaring down at his prisoner, before casting his attention onto Pantera. "Your call, Elder," he growled.

"What choice do we have? We need that transwarp operational to get anywhere in the Arm. I'll hold responsibility."

"You don't remember what happened," Depth Charge reminded, "what he did to you, Cheetor, and Black Arachnia. I do." For emphasis, he unhitched his shotgun and pointed it at Skyfire. "The click I think you're going to betray us, I slag you. Understood?"

<<Yes, sir,>> Skyfire nodded without hesitation. 

The blue and gold Maximal tossed Pantera the fob for the energy binds. As Depth Charge returned to the engine, Pantera flicked off the power. She did not help Skyfire to stand.

<<What happened?>> Skyfire questioned, focusing his transmission for her frequency.

Pantera shrugged. "I was hoping you could tell me."

<<The explosion was contained, but we were caught inside it,>> Skyfire brooded. <<We should have been atomised.>>

"Temporal rift?"

<<Maybe with a transwarp, but there are safeguards built into those: they work or they don't. And when they don't, they latch on the closest signature and jetpack to the destination. That's how Ravage and Depth Charge found the Axalon. But seeing there's a lot of ships here — >>

"No shuttle," Pantera pointed out. "We escaped using one of the Ark's scouting shuttles from Earth. But it's not here."

<<Can you get more information out of Depth Charge?>>

"He was in stasis during the trip." She delivered the news in monotone, reading from a script.

<<Yes or no: is that confirmed?>>

She shook her head.

«There's a chance,» Skyfire explained; he was tapping into his scientist brain, fighting to stay calm. «if we're looking at a quantum universe model, we could be in one of those branches where he did survive. 'Tera, we were caught in the blast of a quantum generator. We may have saved our Cybertron from being annihilated by the blast with that force field.»

"What happened to Starscream?" she hissed. "Where is he?"

«It's...quiet. Which frightens me.» Skyfire had not moved from his position since she removed the binds. «I still have his knowledge, but -- it's like looking at a text book. He doesn't seem to be here. But -- the only reason I still function is because of his spark. 'Tera, I don't even trust me.»

"But I believe you," she stated. "Do you think you can get a navigation computer up and running? To try to pinpoint where we are and where we can go?"

He nodded. «That much I can do.»

"Thank you, Sky."

«'Tera? May I make a request?»

She cocked her head, inviting him to continue.

«I don't mind if you still call me that, but...but I'm not who I was before.» He darted his gaze to the ground. «If anyone asks, I am Hellfire. To keep me separate. To remind me why I'm here, standing before everyone. Because now I share your justice.»  
"Hellfire it is," she nodded. "Now, go find us a nav board."

*

 _Wreckers' Spoils_  
Now

When Sandstorm and Octane returned to the bridge, Depth Charge had taken the vigil on the command board; Pantera had claimed the captain's chair, head bowed as though napping. 

"So, care to tell us a little more about you guys?" Sandstorm initiated. "I mean, you know about us -- too much, if you ask me -- but we don't know anything about you."

"Need to know," Depth Charge retorted; Pantera cleared her throat. 

"They can be trusted, Blue," she reminded.

Octane made a gesture towards the felinoid Autobot, a grin splitting his face.

"We were en route to Cybertron," Depth Charge explained. "Had a cargo -- a 'Con, prisoner of war -- to deliver. I was in stasis at the time, but some time after take-off, we crashed. Far as we could tell, it was 'Tera, me, and the kid who survived. Couldn't find anyone else in the wreckage."

 _«What Depth Charge doesn't like to admit is that we're temporally displaced as well,»_ Hellfire continued. _«We're from Cybertron's future. Our transwarp coils failed. 'Tera was the only one who was online for the trip; both Depth Charge and I were in stasis when it occurred.»_

"And little good that did," she retorted, "I took on some cranial damage. It's a good thing Depth Charge came online, because we would have been pretty much fragged."

_«We've already come to terms that we will not be able to return to our original timeline. The starhopper we found was not equipped with the temporal capabilities as our old ship.»_

"Ah." Sandstorm snapped his fingers. "So you're trying to fix a historical wrong regarding the Lost Light while you're here."

"Sky always said that was a bad idea," Octane pointed out.

 _«Of course it's a bad idea,»_ Hellfire snapped, though he sported a smirk. _«The repercussions can be just as devastating as the original outcome. Paradoxes do tend to fix themselves, so, eh, what the hell.»_

"The crew of the Lost Light were killed by marauders in our timeline," Pantera added. "We aim to change that." Not necessarily a lie, but not the full truth, and she banked on Depth Charge's lack of interest in history to not contradict her. Just enough promise of adventure to entice the former Wreckers to rally their drive and save their comrades. 

"So by doing so, you'll erase your timeline," Sandstorm interjected. "You'd cease to exist."

 _«Now you're in my territory,»_ Hellfire chuckled, a buzzing reverberation. _«First, you're assuming all time is one straight line. It's really -- »_

"I swear to Primus, if you say 'wibbly-wobbly-timey-wimey,' I'm going to beat you senseless," Octane exclaimed. Crossing his arms, he added, "Only Brat's allowed to use Earth pop culture references on this ship."

 _«I was about to say an extension of our fourth-dimensional selves -- three spacial, one temporal -- travelling through the universe. That one temporal can be observed from a physical point of view as going forward at a set rate. The fact is, how many spacial dimensions a being observing the universe has dictates how many temporal at an exponential level. Four spacial dimensions yield two temporal ones; this is known as spacetime, one word. Even though we cannot observe it from our current forms, the extra temporal dimensions are still present. The safeguards in our transwarp drives work on a single field so that we don't lose people in other timelines. Ours jumped the field. So, to answer the previous observation, no, likely we won't cease to exist, because we never existed in this timeline to begin with. It's entirely possible that in this universe, the_ Lost Light _doesn't meet its fate with marauders, but one can't be certain.»_

"Okay, kinda fazed out when you started talking physics, but basically, we're stuck with you either way," Octane translated.

"If you want to save your boss," Depth Charge condensed the narration, "then yes, you're stuck with us."

 

NEXT CHAPTER: Damage I've Done


End file.
